


Gogh, Thor!

by flightyrock, ohstars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, College AU, Embedded Images, First Meetings, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Light Angst, M/M, MRBB 2019, Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019, Meet-Cute, Mythology - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Small Steve, mentions of controlling parents, no powers au, slight angst, soft thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightyrock/pseuds/flightyrock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/pseuds/ohstars
Summary: Thor walks out of the registrar's office at the start of his junior year of college with a smile on his lips and a slip of paper confirming his fifth change of major in just over two years.  But this time is different, because it's finally a major of his own choosing.And with his new, more relaxed schedule, maybe he'll finally have the time to enjoy what remains of his college days.  But what shall he do to fill his former 'sobbing hours?'  Go to parties?  Make new friends?  Or maybe work up the courage to talk to the cute guy canvassing in the Quad?Why not all three?
Relationships: Darcy Lewis & Thor, Steve Rogers/Thor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019





	1. Fall to Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, and welcome to our collaboration for the first Marvel Reverse Big Bang!! 
> 
> I'm so excited to share this work, which is inspired by ohstars' lovely art, which you'll see in Chapter 2! I love it so much; soft, warm, and bright colors, and the two boys looking so happy and carefree. I'd been itching to write some cute Thundershield during claims, so ohstars' submission fit the bill perfectly. Just softness and good feelings, with light angst because relationships are hard, and so is college.
> 
> A huge thank you to my lovely beta, HogwartsToAlexandria ([ tumblr](https://hogwartstoalexandria.tumblr.com/), [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria)), who was flexible, and supportive, and helped me clean this thing up. Thank you so much!
> 
> And a special thank you to ohstars ([ tumblr](https://oh--stars.tumblr.com/), [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/pseuds/ohstars)). This fic and this event wouldn't exist without you. As usual, I had a great time working with you!
> 
> Also, thank you to the rest of the MRBB Mods, for helping to organize this event and keep it running smoothly. 
> 
> I'm terrible at planning ahead, so y'all are getting both chapters today. Enjoy!

Thor stumbles as he pushes his way through the heavy glass doors of the registrar’s office, underestimating how difficult they would be to open with only one free hand. The other is otherwise occupied, clutching the pink slip leftover from instant copy paper, confirming that he is a newly-declared History major. He chuckles, almost giddy with the high of having finally done it.

He’s changed his major for the last time. 

His grin doesn’t fade as he fumbles through changing his schedule on the buggy class site. Or through the yelled lecture he gets from his supervisor, Janine, at the dining hall for being almost fifteen minutes late. 

“Earth to Thor,” a familiar voice drawls, as an entire pile of dishes clanks into the sink, splashing the front of his apron with soapy water. 

“Hmm, what?” he blinks out of his reverie.

Darcy smirks at him, leaning jauntily against the counter, propping her head on her palm. “So. You want to tell me about last night?”

“Last night?” Thor furrows his eyebrows, genuinely confused. “Was there somewhere I promised I would be?”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “No, you know. _Last night,_ ” she nudges his arm. “Come on, you can tell me!”

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Thor admits.

Darcy throws up her hands. “Come on! You were late--”

“Not any later than usual,” Thor points out.

“--you’ve been off in la-la land all morning, and that smile. I know you got some last night, now spill!”

Thor’s hearty laughter booms through the space. “Oh, you mean...gods, no. No, no,” he giggles a bit to himself, using his shoulder to wipe the tears of mirth from his eyes. “I can see where your mind dwells,” he teases. 

“What?” Darcy demands. “What’s so funny? It was a valid assumption!”

“Darcy,” Thor chuckles, “I haven’t had a romantic partner since freshman year.”

Her mouth falls open. “Seriously? But you’re--” she makes a lustful sound, and gestures aggressively up and down, encompassing all of him.

Thor’s ears heat at the compliment. It’s especially unexpected considering his current state of dress; shirt collar stained with sweat, greasy apron highlighting a middle that has softened considerably in his two years of study, and his long hair and ample beard alike constrained unflatteringly in hairnets. Of course, he is not unaware that he is attractive, but it is nice to hear all the same. 

“It’s not that I do not wish to,” Thor admits. “I’ve just been...preoccupied lately.”

“Your dad being an asshole again?” she asks sympathetically.

Thor winces. He did not mean to unload that particular problem on his coworker, but his father had called right before his shift had started one day, and Thor had never been the best at keeping his emotions in check. It was much easier to tell his kind coworker the truth than think up a polite lie. Thor always had been a bit of an open book. 

“Well, yes. But that’s not it. College is difficult, and I haven’t had time to really get to know anybody.”

“You know, there’s this great modern invention called Tinder…”

Thor sighs. “I’m well aware. It’s just all so fast, and superficial.”

“Aw, you’re a romantic! That’s sweet,” Darcy grins. 

The door slams open and they both jump. Janine pokes her head in and yells, “Lewis, quit jawing and go restock the silverware. Odinson, you’ve got a dish pileup in the window. Get your head out of the clouds and get back to work!” They do. Get back to work, that is. Thor never does manage to get his head out of the clouds. He isn’t properly motivated; it feels too good to float, for once.

“So what’s the real reason you were all smiley this morning?” Darcy asks him as they’re walking out together after their shift, heading to their afternoon classes.

Thor grins at her. “I’ve changed my major.”

“Again?” she groans. “Damn, and I thought it would be something exciting.”

“This is exciting,” Thor protests. “It’s the first major that isn’t on the list.”

“Which list?” she frowns.

“My father’s,” Thor explains. 

He’s embarrassed to say that his parents are on the wealthier side. He feels like a fraud, nodding along while his fellow students becry the evils of Sallie Mae and drink away the pain of a debt-riddled future while he knows he’s one of the lucky ones. Who is he to complain about feeling stifled and controlled, when the payoff is financial freedom? It’s just one more thing that drives a wedge between him and everyone else. As though he didn’t have enough ‘otherness’ to contend with between his accent, his height, and his overall strangeness. 

“Don’t tell me daddy gave you a list of approved majors,” Darcy says.

“That is a crude but apt description,” Thor admits.

“Wait, so what happens if you don’t play along?” Darcy asks.

“He stops paying for my tuition.” Thor’s already admitted to Darcy how wealthy his parents are, so he doesn’t feel as awkward about revealing this detail. She was disappointed to hear that he only got a small allowance for books, so he couldn’t get her tickets to Coachella, but didn’t otherwise treat him differently, to his relief.

She snorts. “Jeez. What a tool.”

“I like to think he means well. But yes, he can be,” Thor says.

They walk in silence for a few long moments. Darcy pops her gum loudly against her teeth. “So, what are you going to do when he finds out?” she asks. 

“ _If_ he finds out,” Thor corrects her.

“Oh please, he’s going to find out sometime. What does he think your major is now?”

“Electrical engineering,” Thor says miserably. 

Darcy looks at him pointedly. “But you failed pre calc.”

“I know,” he moans. “Why do you think I switched?”

“What’re you doing now?” she asks.

“History. Not sure what kind yet, but that just means I get to try a bunch of classes out,” he grins.

“Ooh, neat!” They reach the humanities building. “Welp, this is your stop. Enjoy your new classes!” She bounces off towards the labs with a wave.

Thor does indeed enjoy his new classes. Greatly. 

The weeks veritably fly by, he’s so lost in his delight. They’re trying without being soul-crushing, challenging his perspective and worldview. He also greatly prefers the class format, which is more often discussion-based than reliant on rote memorization and meticulous notetaking. He finds he doesn’t even mind the papers, not when he gets to write about the use of gender roles in the famed “Marriage of Thor” and speculate to what extent they may have evolved during the myth’s retelling, especially after the erasure of early Norse culture and integration efforts perpetuated by early Christian immigrants. 

“Thor, I don’t believe you realize quite how brilliant you are,” his professor, Dr. Lawrence, grins at him over her desk. Thor had been incredibly nervous when she had asked him to stay after class.

His face heats. “I’m sorry?” 

“This paper,” she elaborates, smacking the desk, “is nearly flawless. The way you word your arguments, touching on racism while examining sexism and discrepancies between its appearance in myth and what is understood of societal norms in Viking society, forms a narrative that blurs the lines between modern and ancient society. Admittedly, I suspected you of cheating at first. But I haven’t seen these arguments presented in a form even vaguely resembling your paper before, and trust me, I’m well acquainted with the publications surrounding this topic. You even brought up a point or two that I hadn’t considered.”

“Oh.” Thor has no idea what to do with this information, caught between mortification and delight. “Ah, thank you?”

Her eyes are piercing. “What’s your major?” 

He winces. “History?”

“You’re, what, a junior? You planning on grad school?” she asks.

“I’m not sure yet?” he says, shifting uncomfortably. Thor doesn’t know what he’s going to do next week, let alone after the nebulous void in the future acting as a placeholder for his theoretical graduation. 

“Have you ever considered mythology? Viking and Norse specifically?”

“I admit I haven’t. I changed my major recently, so I’m not sure what I’d like to focus on yet,” Thor admits. “I grew up with the tales. Gods and heroes equally flawed were featured in my childhood stories. They are my ancestors, after all. It’s what drew me to your class.” 

“Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations. I look forward to your further contributions.” She gathers her papers into her bag, and gives him a small smile. A rare occurrence, Thor suspects. “And think about what I said, will you?”

“Yes ma’am, I will.” Thor promises.

September bleeds into October, and Thor realizes that for the first time in years, college is _good._ He actually wants to do his assignments, so it’s easier to plan ahead, and stick to a sleep schedule. Ample rest means he can wake at an earlier hour, and now he has the luxury to enjoy the quieter early morning campus on the days he doesn't have to work. He’s taken to getting a coffee and pastry or breakfast sandwich to go, and enjoying it in the Quad during fair weather, watching the world go by. Most other students are dressed as casually as he, and stumble bleary-eyed through the grass.

Thor can’t help but notice the exception to the rule. He’s a slim fellow, incredibly fair of hair and skin, and shorter than average in stature, but his confidence and energy levels lend him more presence than many people twice his size. He gestures passionately to his occasional table mate, a woman with piercings, fiery hair, and sharp eyes, and to passers by. Sometimes he has a clipboard, and he isn’t shy about thrusting it in anyone’s face, be they frat boy or professor.

“Have you signed the petition for university shareholders to divest from fossil fuels?” a deep voice asks as a clipboard is thrust towards Thor’s lap, and there is the blond man suddenly _right there_. 

Thor jumps, jolted out of his recollection and somewhat mortified to be caught by the subject of his distraction. 

“Sorry,” the man says, then blazes on; “Are you familiar with fossil fuel divestment?”

Thor shakes his head mutely, and only half pays attention to the young man’s speech, only catching bits and pieces, to his chagrin. It sounds like it would be incredibly interesting, but he’s still trying to process that voice coming from a body so small, and the man is talking at incredible speeds. Thor tells himself it’s because the caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet and he isn’t firing on all cylinders. “It sounds like a worthy cause,” he hears himself say as he takes the pen that’s thrust towards him as resolutely as the clipboard had been, and scribbles his signature and campus email address on the form. 

“Thank you,” the man smiles sunnily at him, and Thor can’t breathe for a moment.

“Of course,” Thor finally says, but the man is already gone, thrusting the clipboard at another bleary-eyed student, this one in sweats and a beanie. Thor shrugs to himself, gathers his things, and goes about his day as usually, the incident easily slipping from the forefront of his mind.

October flies by as well, and soon ghosts and pumpkins pop up on every porch on and off campus. The leaves turn brown and yellow. They pile up on Thor’s usual bench, and around the blond student’s usual canvassing table. Thor welcomes the cooler weather, enthusiastically rescuing his sweater collection from the back of his closet. He only wishes the cooler weather would make cooking less sweaty work, but the dining hall kitchens remain as stiflingly hot as ever.

“You’re coming to my Halloween party this weekend, right?” Darcy asks, eyes wide and earnest. 

“You’re having a party?” Thor says blankly, flipping burgers on the industrial-sized griddle. He needs to concentrate so he doesn’t splash grease and burn himself, as he’s done many times in the past. 

“I sent you an invite on Facebook!” she says indignantly over her shoulder. He’s conscious of her position behind him, stocking the topping and condiment bar.

Thor snorts. He made an account back in high school because everyone else did, but he rarely logs on besides the times people say they’ve sent him a friend request. He much prefers to interact with people in person. He supposes he’s old-fashioned that way. “I almost never check that.” 

“Obviously,” she says, eye roll audible in her tone. “It’s this Saturday, and you’d better wear a costume. Or else.”

“Or else what?” he asks, taking his eyes off the griddle for a moment to look at her. But she doesn’t answer, just smirks evilly as she takes the empty trays back to the kitchen, walking backwards, staring at him menacingly.

It takes every ounce of self-control Thor possesses to resist laughing when she bumps into their manager and gets an earful about workplace safety. 

Thor takes her threat to heart, and uses his scant free time the rest of the week to plan his costume. It’s more exciting than it should be; Thor hasn’t been invited to a party in years, too absorbed in his studies to pay much attention to social gatherings. That isn’t to say that he hasn't accompanied classmates to local bars upon occasion, or showed up to random parties, but he’s never been specifically invited.

He gets a little too into putting together his costume as a result. But his idea is _brilliant_ , and he has the perfect excuse to see it realized. It takes him all week, multiple trips to the craft and thrift stores, and a solid half hour to get his hair just right, but the end result is striking. He wears an off white gown, a crude veil made of thin white mesh glued to a white headband, and clutches a standard hammer, top fitted with a carved, foam cap. His hair is half up half down, the top half tied into a neat bun, and his beard is braided to a neat taper. Fortune is on his side, as the night is unseasonably warm, and there is no sign of rain as he navigates the off-campus streets. 

Excitement and nerves war in his gut as he raps on the door of the house waiting at the end of the path his phone had outlined after punching in the address Darcy had given him. The party was supposed to start an hour ago, which means he’s right on time, for once. He adjusts his veil and tosses his replica of Mjolnir from hand to hand a little restlessly while he waits for someone to let him in, an awful suspicion striking that he may have taken this costume idea too far.

But then the door swings open, and it’s too late for doubt. He has already committed, and he’s going to own it. Of course, this resolve wavers slightly at the sight of Darcy, who’s wearing all black, and has black plastic things tied around her torso. Garbage bags, he realizes. 

“Thor!” she says, just a touch too loudly, a plastic cup clutched in her hand. She gives him slow elevator eyes, and her grin widens. “Nice costume! Gotta love flipping gender roles the bird.” She lets him inside, and he closes the door, party chatter and music loud enough that he’d have to raise his voice to be heard. To Thor’s consternation, the room is veritably filled with sexy cats and sexy lumberjacks and halfhearted imitations of popular memes from the past year and Thor is now certain he put entirely too much effort into his costume. 

“Oh man,” Darcy continues. “Where’d Steve go? He’d get a kick out of this. Steve!” she bellows, but her voice is swallowed by the music and the chatter of other partygoers. She grabs his wrist, and he allows her to drag him through crowded rooms. Thor apologizes all the while, unable to avoid brushing past people in the tight space. At least he doesn’t have to worry about tripping over his gown; it’s on the shorter side.

For the most part, people pay little attention to him, absorbed in their own conversations. But one member of the crowd stands out to him. It’s probably the hat. The person is wearing a round, brimmed, straw hat, and a deep blue dress shirt. Thor’s willing to bet they’re the only person in the house in khakis.

Darcy abruptly changes direction, and now they’re going towards the person. “Steve!” she calls again. Nobody reacts. She reaches out, and taps on one shoulder of the blue suit. The person turns around, and Thor can’t help but stare. 

Up close, the blue shirt is, in reality, several shades of blue, with light accents of yellow and the occasional orange painted in deliberate, flowing streaks all over the fabric. They’ve painted themselves a beard and mustache, and covered their eyebrows with the same fiery shade of red-orange. It’s a dead ringer for one of Van Gogh’s self-portraits.

Thor laughs in delight. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Vincent,” he grins, and holds out his hand. The man’s eyes widen, and he accepts the shake with a grin of his own. “The pleasure’s all mine, Thor.” 

Thor knows that deep voice! 

“Wait, wait,” Darcy says, putting her hands out. “Thor, no, this is Steve. Steve, how do you know Thor?”

“Wait, your name is actually Thor?” Steve laughs. It’s a wonderful sound. “That’s amazing!”

“Nickname, technically,” Thor shrugs, blushing. “Torbjörn is what’s actually written on my birth certificate, but it’s a bit of a mouthful.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Steve says. “Couldn’t read your handwriting on that petition the other month, but it looked way longer than four letters.”

Thor laughs. “Please forgive me, penmanship is not one of my strengths.” 

“Wait, wait,” Darcy says once again. “Hold on a second. How did you,” she points at Steve, “know his name was Thor if you didn’t know his name was Thor? But you know each other? What?”

“His costume, Darce,” Steve says patiently. “He’s dressed as Thor. From the myths. More specifically, from ‘The Marriage of Thor,” right?” he asks Thor.

Thor grins. “Exactly.”

“That’s cheating!” Darcy pouts. “You can’t dress up as yourself!”

“You’re one to talk,” Steve scoffs. 

“But I’m dressed as garbage,” she protests. Steve raises his eyebrows and leans forward pointedly. Realization sweeps over her face, and Thor guffaws. “You’re so mean to me,” Darcy complains, smacking Steve on the arm, but she’s laughing too. “I’m leaving! You jerks deserve each other.”

Thor chuckles, watching her stalk away dramatically, and throw herself into the arms of another young woman in a garbage bag toga. 

“How do you know Darcy?” Steve asks, bringing Thor’s attention back to the man in front of him.

“We both work in the dining hall,” Thor grins.

“Bet she’s a terror,” Steve says affectionately.

Thor laughs. “That she is. My shifts would be unbearably dull without her. How about you?”

“She’s in my public speaking seminar,” Steve says. “Drives the professor up a wall. She’s way smarter than she lets on. Her stuff is easily some of the best in the class, so he can’t fail her, even though you can tell he wants to.”

“She’s going places,” Thor agrees. “Much like you. How long did you spend putting that excellent costume together?”

“Not as long as you’d think,” Steve shrugs. “Longest part was waiting for the shirt to dry, then painting on the beard.” Steve smirks. “I could almost say the same for you, but you’re missing a key component.”

“I am?” Thor furrows his brow. 

“Where’s your veil?” Steve asks.

Thor frowns and carefully pats the top of his head, wondering if it fell off during his trek across campus. But no, the headband is still there, nice and secure. “What do you mean?”

“The entire point of Thor dressing up was to fool that giant guy into thinking he’s Freya. Kind of defeats the point when your beard is poking through,” Steve says.

Thor is absolutely delighted. “You really are familiar with the tale, aren’t you?”

“A bit,” Steve shrugs. “Thor lost his hammer somehow, and a giant found it, but wouldn’t give it back unless the other gods gave him Freya’s hand in marriage. But of course, they weren’t going to do that. Not because Freya was a strong independent woman, or already more or less happily married, but because the other guy was a giant and the Aesir were a bunch of racist assholes.” He rolls his eyes. “So they dressed Thor up in wedding garb to trick him, and Loki gets roped into it because Thor is an idiot and absolutely could not be trusted to pull off the deception alone.”

Thor barks out a startled laugh, and his grin widens. “Precisely. You should know, then, that my veil is indeed canon-compliant. If you recall, the giant Thrym was not known for his intelligence. At least, not from the Aesir and Vanir’s perspective. Loki certainly had the skill to sell it, beard and all. Surely Freya, a goddess widely known for her beauty and magic, could easily change her appearance to suit multiple partners with vastly different tastes.”

Steve smirks at him, crinkling his painted beard. “You couldn’t find a bigger veil, could you?”

Thor throws back his head and laughs. The cheek of this man! “What can I say? I am but a humble student with rudimentary sewing skills and shallow pockets. As you might imagine, the bridal selection at the thrift store was limited. I was just lucky to find a dress that would fit me that was within my budget!”

“Excuses, excuses,” Steve grins.

“So how-” Thor begins, but the noise level in the room suddenly spikes, a sharp laugh distracting him, and causing him to look away while finishing his question, “-did you get the idea for your costume?”

“Sorry, could you face me and repeat that?” Steve asks in a tone that suggests he says the same thing frequently. “I’m a bit hard of hearing.” 

“Of course,” Thor says, mildly abashed. “Would you like to continue this outside?”

“Sure,” Steve says. “Follow me.”

Thor follows Steve through the living room, over the sticky kitchen floor tiles, and out the back door. There are a couple of students splayed out on their backs in the grass, but the porch is free. They sit across from each other, cross-legged. It’s nice out here, still unseasonably warm despite the late hour and free of the press of bodies and the wall of sounds and smells. Thor sighs in relief.

“Same,” Steve says, removing his hat and running a hand through squashed-down hair. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Mine either,” Thor admits. “I’d much rather be in bed with a book.”

“Yeah?” Steve perks up. “What are you reading?”

It turns out Thor and Steve have similar tastes in literature. They both enjoy historical fiction, well-written mysteries, and certain flavors of science fiction and fantasy. It turns out Steve also has a soft spot for young adult novels, which of course leads to an in-depth conversation on the masterpiece that is Louis Sachar’s _Holes._

“I didn’t understand a lot of the context until I moved to the US,” Thor admits.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” Steve says. “Where are you from?”

Thor talks about growing up in Sweden, then coming to the US for the end of middle school and high school. Steve asks attentive questions, and before Thor knows it, he’s talking about being the ditzy jock, the perfect student, the golden child. The pressure, from his father and his peers. His lack of direction, his fears of never amounting to anything, and suspicion that he’d never be able to commit to anything. 

Steve talks about being the art nerd in high school, and his flipside experience of being the black sheep who didn’t know when to shut his mouth. He talks about social justice, and his dreams of a world filled with beauty and peace. He very conspicuously leaves out anything having to do with his home life. Thor doesn’t mind. He may be an open book, but he knows not everyone is that way. Thor considers himself privileged that Steve is comfortable enough to speak to him about heavier topics at all. 

Steve is intelligent, articulate, and confident. He knows exactly what he wants in life, and how he’s going to get there. Thor is envious. Enraptured. Entranced. 

Conversation flows like warm honey, sweet on his tongue and a balm to his soul, and all too soon, Darcy’s kicking everyone out.

“It’s half past three, so everyone who’s not sleeping over, get out!” she calls out the back door. 

“Oh,” Thor blinks at Steve after the door slams shut. “I completely forgot to get drunk.”

Steve laughs, climbing to his feet, and offering Thor a hand up. Thor takes it gladly, and winces at the pins and needles that crawl up and down his legs. They had been sitting there for a long time. But it still hadn’t been enough; Thor doesn’t want to leave. He wants to sit on this porch with Steve all night. 

“Can I walk you home?” Steve asks easily. 

“Absolutely!” Thor says, delighted that Steve appears to be thinking along similar lines. Or he is simply a considerate person. Either way, Thor is glad they don’t have to say goodbye quite yet. 

It is an excellent walk. They talk a bit more, but mostly they walk in comfortable silence, shoulder to shoulder. Just two kindred souls enjoying the tail end of a wonderful night. Thor slips into a dreamlike state, feeling as though the night will never end, that they’ll simply exist in this liminal space, stuck in this moment of change until the end of time. 

“You’re in Commons, right?” Steve’s voice cuts through his daydream.

“Er, yes,” he confirms.

“We’re here,” Steve points at the doors.

“Ah, right,” Thor says, regretful. He looks back at Steve, the way his blue eyes shine in the moonlight under that straw hat of his, and all words flee from his mind. The man is gorgeous, and for the first time that night, Thor is truly at a loss for words. But he manages a few standard ones. “Um. Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem,” Steve says, and then he turns and walks away, and Thor’s struck with the feeling that he just messed up, he needs to call Steve back, what is he doing, he needs to say something. Anything.

But by the time he comes to that conclusion, Steve is already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thor :(


	2. After Halloween

Thor stumbles into bed that night with a groan, and self-loathing follows him into sleep.

How could he have been so stupid! He should have asked for Steve’s number. He should have asked Steve if he would be alright getting home, to text Thor when he got back safe! His ex was right; he really was just a pretty face who should learn to keep his stupid mouth shut.

Thor's dreams are uneasy, full of blue eyes and flaking paint and his father’s ‘disappointed’ voice.

He wakes feeling less rested than before. He writes today off as a loss, and rolls over, going back to sleep.

By Sunday, Thor has recovered from his sleepless night, and is much clearer. Just because he didn’t get Steve’s number doesn’t mean he’ll never see him again! They see each other nearly every other day in the Quad. Thor will bring him coffee and a pastry, ask for his number, and everything will be fine.

Except he forgets on Monday. And Wednesday. Then he remembers on Friday, but Steve is nowhere to be seen, so he dejectly hands the extra beverage to the red-haired woman who accompanies Steve upon occasion. It turns out her name is Natasha. Thor finds her very difficult to read. She does not appear to have the same difficulties reading him.

“This was for Steve, wasn’t it?” she says, tapping the lid of the cup, and Thor doesn’t see any reason to deny it. She takes a deep draught, and Thor starts to walk away. “Try again Wednesday,” she calls after him. “It’s better you missed him; he’s not much of a coffee person. His favorite hot drink is a dairy-free chai latte with soy milk. You get him that and a chocolate croissant, and he’ll definitely give you his number,” she winks.

Thor blushes, but thanks her earnestly before he heads to class. He writes “Wednesday- talk to Steve” in his planner.

Thankfully, projects and exam preparation are a handy distraction from his nerves, and Wednesday morning is there almost before he knows it. He’s up almost a full hour ahead of his alarm from sheer nerves, and he groans to himself. He takes his time with his hair, pulling it up in a neat bun, before separating his beard into strands and working them into his customary braid. He briefly entertains the idea of dressing up, but realises he hasn’t done laundry in almost two weeks now, so the closest thing he has is his cleanest hoodie and pair of jeans.

Thor is still running incredibly early when he stops by the coffee shop, getting himself a mocha and a breakfast sandwich, and Steve his dairy free latte and chocolate croissant. He desperately hopes he’s not too early. He’d hate for Steve’s drink to get cold. 

But no, there’s a familiar silhouette around the canvassing table, gesturing passionately. Thor politely waits until Steve’s done, before stepping up. Steve’s eyes widen. Thor waves sheepishly with the bag of pastries. 

“What’s all this?” Steve asks.

“I brought you coffee? Um, tea, I mean,” Thor fumbles a bit with the carrier, forgetting that he needs two drinks to keep it balanced. Steve bounds forwards, and helps him get everything settled on the table. “I got you a chai latte with soy milk, and a chocolate croissant.”

“Wow, thank you,” Steve says, accepting the cup readily. “This is my favorite drink. I hope you don’t mind if I skip the croissant; a lot of dairy doesn’t play nice with my system.”

Thor’s confused. “Ah, my apologies. I thought it was your favorite.”

Steve frowns, eyebrows furrowed. “Where’d you hear that? It is strange though; the drink’s my favorite. You even got the milk substitute right! But the snack is--” His brow smooths abruptly, and he leans smoothly to the side to look behind Thor. Thor turns around, and there’s Natasha, looking a little too innocent. The two stare each other down for a good minute, and Thor shifts uncomfortably.

“In my defense, I never said it was Steve’s favorite,” Natasha says dryly. 

Steve shakes his head. “You’re shameless, Nat. Chocolate croissants are her favorite, “ he explains to Thor. “You don’t have to give it to her; she clearly planned this.”

“Oh no, it’s alright, I don’t mind!” Thor hastens to reassure. 

“See, Steve? He doesn’t mind.” Natasha winks at Thor. Then she turns to Steve. “Consider it payment for watching the table while you two abandon me to go have a nice coffee date.”

“You’re the worst,” Steve groans, but does as she suggests, and leads Thor over to a bench out of sight of the canvassing table. They settle down with their drinks, and sip in companionable silence for a few minutes. “I really am sorry about her,” Steve says. “I’ll pay you back for the pastry if you’d like.”

“Steve, seriously, don’t worry about it,” Thor says. “Your friend earned that pastry. She gave me excellent advice about your beverage of choice.”

“She did,” Steve admits. “Thank you, I really needed this today.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Thor says. He hesitates, but asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just school stuff, nothing important,” Steve waves him off. 

“You can tell me about it if you’d like,” Thor offers. 

Steve sighs. “It really is nothing. Well, not nothing, but it’s my own damn fault. I’m a triple major,” he explains, and Thor’s sure his own eyes just got comically wide. Steve chuckles a bit. “Yeah, it’s just a lot.”

“I bet,” Thor says. “I only have one major, and I feel like I’m drowning some days. Which ones?”

“Art history, education, and traditional art,” Steve says, ears coloring a bit.

Thor whistles, impressed. Suddenly, Steve’s depth of knowledge about many subjects makes more sense. “That’s amazing.”

“It will be when I’m done. Now, not so much,” Steve says. “I just have all these projects.” 

“Tell me about them,” Thor encourages him. 

So Steve does, and soon the lines of tension around his eyes and shoulders are a bit smoother. “This was nice. Thank you, Thor.” Steve says. 

“Of course,” Thor says. He hesitates, but decides to take the plunge. “Would you be interested in doing this again?”

“Of course,” Steve echoes with a smile. “But I’d also like to take you out on a date.”

“Good, so--wait, you would?” Thor asks, surprised. It’s more than he ever dared to hope for. 

“We clicked,” Steve says, easy as anything. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

Thor’s mouth is dry. He doesn’t trust that he’s awake right now, but he won’t let Steve walk away again without saying anything. “Please. Yes. Me too. I mean...damn it,” Thor mutters, cheeks burning. 

But Steve’s laughing, and smiling at him. A backpack comes sailing towards them, and Thor lunges to get in front of it. He manages to catch it, and Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

“Lacrosse,” Thor explains.

“Alright lovebirds, I’m off to class,” Natasha says, electing to hand the large portfolio bag to Steve. A wise decision. “I’m going to assume you got Steve’s number like you wanted, Odinson?”

Thor’s eyes widen. “Ah, yes! Thank you, I nearly forgot!” He turns to Steve. “What’s your number?”

Steve laughs.

~<>~

Thor heads to his first class that day with a smile on his lips and a message waiting for him on his phone. He pulls it out during the minutes leading up to the lecture to check.

**7:56 AM: Unknown Number:** _Hi, it’s Steve :D_

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't ohstars' art just spectacular!? It makes me so happy :D
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing this! I'm a bit disappointed, because I had a lot more planned for these two. Maybe I'll come back and write some more in the same universe when life calms down a bit.
> 
> In the meantime, thanks for reading!! Feel free to come say 'hi' on tumblr or twitter, and be sure to show some love to my wonderful artist/co-creator and beta!  
> ~~~  
> Art by **ohstars** ([ tumblr](https://oh--stars.tumblr.com/), [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/pseuds/ohstars))  
> Beta-read by **HogwartsToAlexandria** ([ tumblr](https://hogwartstoalexandria.tumblr.com/), [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria))  
> Fic by **flightyrock** ([ tumblr](https://flightyrock.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/flightyrock))


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